50th Inhibited Post

So often - too often - my writing is inhibited by the lares and penates of my autonomous mind - the demigods I unconsiously give homage: pride, "self-respect," shame, expectation, vanity, the joys of pigeons. I think I want to be pigeonholed. I think I'd like to be mentally raided - have those lares and penates stolen and defaced, be carried off myself to some unknown post office or bureau and plopped into one of thousands of slots or drawers. Then I wouldn't have to think anymore. People could sort through me like mail or clothes. I would have a return address and a destination/a brand tag and washing directions. I'd be one of an ignoble, though harmless, beaurocracy of simple superficiality. I'd be a written letter - a finished article of clothing. If only I could really pull it off. The tragic part is: I can't. Or maybe I can only too well, out-pigeonholing everyone else and not recognizing it. But then again, maybe the tragic part is not whether I can pull it off, but that I actually want to. Who in their right mind doesn't want more paper to write on? Who wants a skein-less life of sweaters, with no more scarves to knit? Who honestly wants to be finished? Do I? Honestly, honestly, honestly, I don't. But a temporary pigeonhole would be nice. Or at least some smashed lares and penates. And maybe I would like a mental raid once in a while. I suppose that's what Monty Python is for.
To continue with my inhibitive writing, I am feeling pretty good at the moment, I suppose. I am grateful for many things. And I suppose I'll write about a few of them (though it's more than a whim... it's a sort of nagging feeling). I am thankful for many things, though not thankful enough. To begin with a broad category: the people I love: family, friends, etc. More specifically: right now, I am really thankful for my parents, Emily, Laura, Abraham, Chelsea, Brittany, Carly, Matt, Clifton, Marissa, Krista, and Abraham. Oh brother! There are so many more, those are just the ones foremost in thought at the moment. I am also so very grateful that I will see Abe come Christmastime! I can scarcely believe it. In the past 4 years, I've seen him twice. Is that right? No, it can't be... maybe 3 times, but whichever: it hasn't been enough! And I am so grateful he has made it possible for himself to visit. This gratitude is really sort of liberating. I think it's doing a nice job of cracking those lares and penates.